FACT AND FICTION. THE CHILDREN OF MOUNT IDA. "Spirit, who waftest me where'er I will, And seest, with finer eyes, what infants see; With the wise health of everlasting youth, Frank, and quick-dimpled to all social glee, On some such lovely land, Where I may feel me as I please, IN very ancient times there dwelt, among the Phrygian hills, an old shepherd and shepherdess, named Mygdomus and Arisba. From youth they had tended flocks and herds on the Idean mountains. Their only child, a blooming boy of six years, had been killed by falling from a precipice. Arisba's heart overflowed with maternal instinct, which she yearned inexpressibly to lavish on some object; but though they laid many offerings on the altars of the gods, with fervent supplications, there came to them no other child. Thus years passed in loneliness, until one day, when Mygdomus searched for his scattered flock among the hills, he found a babe sleeping under the shadow of a plane-tree. The grass bore no marks of footsteps, and how long he had lain there it was impossible to conjecture. The shepherd shouted aloud, but heard only echoes in the solitude of the mountains. He took the child tenderly in his arms, and conveyed it to Arisba, who received it gladly, as an answer to her prayers. They nurtured him with goat's milk, and brought him up among the breezes of the hills, and the boy grew in strength and beauty. Arisba cherished him with exceeding love, but still her heart was not quite satisfied. "If he had but a sister to play with him," said she, "it would be so pleasant here under the trees." The boy was three years old, and beautiful as a morning in spring, when his foster-parents carried him down to the plains, to a great festival of Bacchus, held during the vintage. It was a scene of riot and confusion; but the shepherd loved thus to vary the loneliness of his mountain life, and Arisba fondly desired to show her handsome boy, with his profusion of dark glossy curls bound in a fillet of ivy and grape leaves. Her pride was abundantly satisfied for everywhere among the crowd the child attracted attention. When the story was told of his being found in the mountain forest, the women said he must have been born of Apollo and Aurora, for only they could produce such beauty. This gossip reached the ears of an old woman, who came hobbling on her crutch to look at the infant prodigy. "By the Adorable! he is a handsome boy," said she; "but come with me, and I too will show you something for the Mother of Love to smile upon." She led the way to her daughter, who, seated under a tree, apart from the multitude, tended a sleeping babe. "By the honey sweet! isn't she pretty, too?" exclaimed the old woman, pointing to the lovely infant, whose rosy lips were slowly moving, as if she suckled in her dreams. "My son, who hunts among the hills, found her on the banks of the Cebrenus, with one little foot dipped in the stream. Methinks the good Mountain Mother scatters children on our Phrygian hills, as abundant as the hyacinths." "Then she is not your own?" eagerly inquired Arisba. "No; and, pretty as she is, I do not want her, for I have ten. But what can I do? One must not leave babes to be devoured by wild beasts." "O give her to me," cried Arisba: "My boy so needs a playmate.". The transfer was readily made; and the childloving matron, rejoicing in her new treasure, soon after left the revellers, and slowly wended her way back to the silent hills. A cradle of bark and lichen, suspended between two young olive-trees, held the babe, while Arisba, seated on a rock, sung as she plied the distaff. The boy at her side built small altars of stones, or lay at full length on the grass, listening to the gurgling brook, or watching the shadows at their play. Thus peacefully grew these little ones, amid all harmonies of sight and sound; and the undisturbed beauty of nature, like a pervading soul, fashioned their outward growth into fair proportions and a gliding grace. For a long time they had no names. They were like unrecorded wild flowers, known at sight, on which the heart heaps all sweet epithets. Their foster-parents spoke of them to strangers as the B picture could not be imagined, than these fair children, wreathing their favourite kid with garlands, under the shadow of the trees, or splashing about, like infant Naiades, in the mountain brook. On the hill side, near their rustic home, was a goat's head and horns, bleached by sun and winds. It had been placed on a pole to scare the crows; and as it stood there many a year, the myrtle had grown round it, and the clematis wreathed it with flowery festoons, like the architectural ornaments of a temple. A thrush had built her nest between the horns; and a little rill gushed from the rock, in a cleft of which the pole was fastened. Here the boy loved to scoop up water for his little playmate to drink from his hand; and as they stood thus under the vines, they seemed like children of the gods. But the most beautiful sight was to see them kneeling hand in hand before the altar of Cybele, in the grove, with wreaths about their heads and garlands in their hands, while the setting sun sprinkled gold among the shadow-foliage on the pure white marble. Always they were together. When the boy was strong enough to bend a bow, the girl ran ever by his side to carry his arrows; and then she had a smaller arrow for herself, with which she would shoot the flowers from their stems, as skilfully as Cupid himself. As they grew older, they came under the law of utility; but this likewise received a poetic charm from their free and simple mode of life. While the lad tended the flocks, the maiden sat on a rock at his feet, spinning busily while she sang summer melodies to the warblings of his flute. Sometimes, when each tended flocks on separate hills, they relieved the weary hours by love messages sent through the air on the wings of music. His Phrygian flute questioned her with bold bright voice, and sweetly answered her Lydian pipe, in mellow tones, taking their rest in plaintive cadences. Sometimes they jested sportively with each other; asking mischievous questions in fragments of musical phrases, the language of which could be interpreted only by themselves. But more frequently they spoke to each other deeper things than either of them comprehended; struggling aspirations towards the infinite, rising and lowering like tongues of flame; half-uttered, impassioned prophecies of emotions not yet born; and the wailing voice of sorrows as yet unknown. In the maiden especially was the vague but intense expression of music observable. In fact, her whole being was vivacious and impressible in the extreme; and so transparent were her senses, that the separation between earthly and spiritual existence seemed to be of the thinnest and clearest crystal. All noises were louder to her than to others, and images invisible to them were often painted before her on the air, with a most perfect distinctness of outline and brilliancy of colouring. This kind of spirit-life was indicated in her face and form. Her exquisitely beautiful countenance was remarkably lucid, and her deep blue eyes, shaded with very long dark fringes, had an intense expression, as if some spirit from the inner shrine looked through them. Her voice was wonderfully full of melodious inflexions, but even in its happiest utterance had a constant tendency to slide into sad modulations. The outline of her slight figure swayed gracefully to every motion, like a young birch tree to the breath of gentle winds; and its undulations might easily suggest the idea of beauty born of the waves. Her companion had the perfection of physical beauty. A figure slender but vigorous; a free, proud carriage of the head, glowing complexion, sparkling eyes, voluptuous mouth, and a pervading expression of self-satisfaction and joy in his own existence. A nature thus strong and ardent, of course exercised a powerful influence over her higher but more ethereal and susceptible life, Then, too, the constant communion of glances and sounds, and the subtle influence of atmosphere and scenery, had so intertwined their souls, that emotions in the stronger were felt by the weaker, in vibrations audible as a voice. Near or distant, the maiden felt whether her companion's mood were gay or sad ; and she divined his thoughts with a clearness that sometimes made him more than half afraid. Of course they loved each other long before they knew what love was; and with them innocence had no need of virtue. Placed in outward circumstances so harmonious with nature, they were drawn toward each other by an attraction as pure and unconscious as the flowers. They had no secrets from their good foster-mother; and she, being reverent towards the gods, told them that their union must be preceded by offerings to Juno, and solemnised by mutual promises. She made a marriage feast for them, in her humble way, and crowned the door-posts with garlands. Life passed blissfully there, in the bosom of the deeply-wooded hills. Two souls that are sufficient to each other— sentiments, affections, passions, thoughts, all blending in love's harmony- -are earth's most perfect medium of heaven. Through them the angels come and go continually, on missions of love to all the lower forms of creation. It is the halo of these heavenly visitors that veils the earth in such a golden glory, and makes every little flower smile its blessing upon lovers. And these innocent ones were in such harmony with Nature in her peaceful spring time! The young kids, browsing on the almond blossoms, stopped and listened to their flutes, and came ever nearer, till they looked in the eyes of the wedded ones. And when the sweet sounds died away into silence, the birds took up the strain and sang their salutation to the marriage principle of the universe. Thus months passed on, and neither heart felt an unsatisfied want. They were known to each other by many endearing names, but the fosterparents usually called them Corythus and Enone. These names were everywhere cut into the rocks, and carved upon the trees. Sometimes, the childlike girl would ask, nothing doubting of the answer, "Will you love me thus when I am as old as our good Arisba?" And he would twine flowers in the rich braids of her golden hair, as he fondly answered, "May the Scamander flow back to its source if ever I cease to love my Enone." there were other passions in the world than love, they neither of them dreamed. But one day Corythus went down into the plains in search of a milk-white bull, that had strayed from the herd. He was returning with the animal, when he encountered a troop of hunters, from the city on the other side of the river. The tramp of their horses and the glitter of their spears frightened the bull, That and he plunged madly into the waves of the Scamander. The uncommon beauty of the powerful beast, and his fiery strength, attracted attention. Some of the hunters dismounted to assist in bringing him out of the river, and with many praises, inquired to whom he belonged. The shepherd answered their questions with a graceful diffidence, that drew some admiration upon himself. As the troop rode away, he heard one of them say, "By Apollo's quiver! that magnificent bull must be the one in which Jupiter disguised himself to carry off Europa." "Yes," replied another, "and that handsome rustic might be Ganymede in disguise." A glow of pleasure mantled the cheeks of Corythus. He stood for a moment proudly caressing the neck and head of the superb animal, and gazed earnestly after the hunters. The adventure made a strong impression on his mind; for by the brazen helmets and shields, richly embossed with silver, he rightly conjectured that they who had spoken thus of him were princes of Ilium. From that day he dressed himself more carefully, and often looked at the reflection of himself in the mountain pool. Instead of hastening to Enone, when they had by any chance been separated for a few hours, he often lingered long, to gaze at the distant towers of Ilium, glittering in the setting sun. The scene was indeed surpassingly fair. The Scamander flowed silverly through a verdant valley girdled by an amphitheatre of richly-wooded mountains. Europe and Asia smiled at each other across the bright waters of the Ægean, while the lovely islands of Imbros and Tenedos slept at their feet. But it was not the beauty of the scene which chiefly attracted his youthful imagination. The spark of ambition had fallen into his breast, and his shepherd life now seemed unmanly and dull. Enone soon felt this! for the usually quick perception of love was rendered still more keen by her peculiar impressibility to spiritual influence. For the first time, in her innocent and happy life, came conscious sadness without a defined reason, and unsatisfied feelings that took no name. She gave out the whole of her soul, and not being all received, the backward stroke of unabsorbed affection struck on her heart with mournful echoes. It made her uneasy, she knew not why, to hear Corythus talk of the princes of Ilium, with their dazzling crests and richly-embroidered girdles. It seemed as if these princes, somehow or other, came between her and her love. She had always been remarkable for the dreaming power, and in her present state of mind this mysterious gift increased. Her senses, too, became more acute. A nerve seemed to be thrust out at every pore. She started at the slightest sound, and often, when others saw nothing, she would exclaim "Look at that beautiful bird, with feathers like the rainbow!" The kind foster-mother laid all these things to her heart. Something of reverence, tinged with fear, mixed with her love for this dear child of her adoption. She said to her husband: "Perhaps she is the daughter of Apollo, and he will endow her with the gift of prophecy, as they say he has the beautiful princess Cassandra, in the royal halls of Ilium." The attention of Corythus was quite otherwise employed. All his leisure moments were spent in making clubs and arrows. He often went down into the plains, to join the young men in wrestlingmatches, running, leaping, throwing of quoits. In all games of agility or strength, he soon proved his superiority so decidedly that they ceased to excite him. Then he joined hunting parties, and in contests with wild beasts he signalised himself by such extraordinary boldness and skill, that in all the country round he came to be known by the name of Alexander, or the Defender. event The echo of his fame flattered the pride of his foster-father, who often predicted for him a career of greatness; but poor none wept at these periods of absence, which became more and more. frequent. She concealed her tears from him, however, and eagerly seized every little moment of sunshine to renew their old happiness. But of all the sad tasks of poor humanity, it is the most sorrowful to welcome ghosts of those living joys that once embraced us with the warmest welcome. To an earnest and passionate nature it seems almost better to be hated, than to be less beloved. Enone would not believe that the sympathy between them was less perfect than it had been; but the anxious inquiry and the struggling hope were gradually weakening her delicate frame; and an occurred which completely deranged her nervous organisation. One day they had both been tending flocks on the hills, and had fallen asleep in the shade of a gigantic oak. When they awoke, the flock had wandered away, and they went in search of them. Twilight drew her cloud-curtain earlier than usual, and only a solitary star was here and there visible. Bewildered by the uncertain light, they lost their way, and were obliged to trust to the sagacity of their dog. The sky, through the thickly interlacing boughs of gigantic trees, looked down upon them solemnly; bushes here and there started forth, like spectral shadows, across their path; and their faithful dog now and then uttered a long howl, as if he felt the vicinity of some evil beast. Enone was overcome with exceeding fear. The wind among the trees distressed her with its wailing song; and her acute senses detected other sounds in the distance, long before they reached the ear of her companion. "Ha! what is that?" she exclaimed, clinging more closely to his arm. ""Tis only the evening wind," he replied. "Don't you hear it?" she said: "It is a horrible noise, like the roar of lions. Ah, dear Corythus, the wild beasts will devour us." He stood and listened intently. "I hear nothing," said he, "but the Dryads whispering among the trees, and pulling green garlands from the boughs. Your ears deceive you, dearest." There was silence for a few moments; and then, with a faint shriek, she exclaimed: "Oh, did'nt you hear that frightful clash? The dog heard it. Hark! how he growls." For some time, Corythus insisted that there were no other sounds than those common to evening. But at last a deep roar, mingled with howls, came through the air too distinctly to be mistaken. Enone trembled in every joint, and the perspiration stood in large drops on her lips and forehead. The sounds grew louder and louder. Booming timbrels were answered with the sharp clash of cymbals, and at every pause of the rolling drums |